


Look and Touch and Everything in Between

by misura



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>So now here they were, two bare-chested guys in a circle of flames, surrounded by women Scott would presume to be enjoying the view. He knew he'd be, in their place.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look and Touch and Everything in Between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladydey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydey/gifts).



_"You will provide some entertainment for us tonight,"_ Markunda had said. _"To celebrate us meeting again,"_ and Scott had been kind of worried at the time about explaining this whole thing where he and Michael now apparently had sex sometimes (but not _all_ the time) so he'd sort of mumbled something along the lines of _yeah, okay, sure, whatever_.

His mistake, possibly.

 

So now here they were, two bare-chested guys in a circle of flames, surrounded by women Scott would presume to be enjoying the view. He knew he'd be, in their place.

"Don't worry," Michael said. "I'll go easy on you."

There was faint sheen of sweat on his chest, his arms, his face. Scott figured _he_ was sweating a fair bit, too, probably, except that he didn't think Michael was fantasizing about licking it off of him or anything. Scott was, sadly, and it was distracting as fuck.

Probably best not to let on to that.

"Funny," he said. "I was just about to tell you the same thing."

"Sure you were," Michael replied - and Scott was around British people all the fucking time nowadays, for fuck's sake - had been for over a year; it wasn't as if the accent should still be any sort of turn-on.

He wasn't sure he wanted to find out what having Michael actually talk honest-to-God dirty to him would do to him (except that yes, he did. Pretty fucking badly.)

"Hey. Gotta make it a good show, don't we?" Scott wondered if Markunda _knew_ ; if there was some sort of, Hell, call it _feminine intuition_ or something, that told women when men had apparently started playing for the other team.

Richmond didn't seem to know a thing, but then, maybe she was just being British about it. Polite.

"Yes," Michael said. "I suppose it wouldn't look too good if I crushed you in ten seconds flat, would it?"

"You gonna keep talking or are we actually going to wrestle?"

The problem, Scott supposed, was that they were both too fucking familiar with the other. Michael knew all of his tells, just like Scott knew all of his - likely as not, 'putting on a good show' was the best they could shoot for here.

It wouldn't do for anyone to get hurt, after all; they were on a job, and they were friends, and they were just going to have to figure out some way to decide who of them was going to have to take one for the team by pretending to lose - after putting up a suitably impressive struggle, naturally.

"Just giving you some time to prepare yourself," Michael said.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are," Scott said, which was Michael's cue to move, of course - Scott had been expecting him at 'you', but the actual grab came at 'are', a fraction of a second later.

Scott grinned. _Nice try, Mike._

"Liked that, did you?" Michael shook his head, looking at once amused and a little exasperated.

"I like it a little rough," Scott said, pitching his voice low enough so that even if the nearest on-lookers understood English, they still wouldn't have heard him. "You know that, Mike."

"Stick around a while longer next time. I'll show you rough."

 _You will, will you?_ Scott swallowed. "Is that an actual promise, or are you just teasing me here?"

"Only one way you're going to find out, is there?"

Scott aimed a half-hearted jab at Michael's chest, which was deflected; he broke contact before Michael could try to take advantage. They were a fair enough match, physically, but there'd been a reason Scott had volunteered Michael as their champion wrestler the first time they'd been here, and it hadn't just been because he'd hoped the experience would help Michael let off some steam.

It hadn't been just about getting to see Michael half-naked and sweaty, either. Scott got plenty of _that_ on the job - even if, of course, he usually couldn't look too openly.

"Focus," Michael said, moving in closer - or no; he'd already moved in closer. "Unless you _want_ to lose quickly. Which wouldn't make for a very good show now, would it?"

Scott considered backing up, waiting to allow physical contact on his own terms. _As if that's ever going to happen. Let's face it, I'm fucked if I do, fucked if I don't. And not in the fun way, either._

_Although maybe I'll get lucky later tonight, when it's just the two of us in a nice tent with no dogs or goats in it this time. A guy can always hope._

"You really _are_ distracted, aren't you?" Michael murmured. "Come on, Scott. Get your head in the game, will you? There's only so much I can do by myself."

"Yeah," Scott said, while his imagination cheerfully went on picturing how much Michael might be able to do by himself. _To_ himself. "Fuck. Sorry."

 _I seriously need to get some. Soon._ Markunda might be up for it, if Michael wouldn't. _It's not like we're fucking exclusive or some shit. Well, we never_ said _we were, anyway._

"That's more like it," Michael said, and Scott told himself that yeah, they'd been here, done this. Gotten their hands all over each other, without it being anything sexual.

He'd had Michael panting in his ear plenty of times without getting a hard-on.

_Too bad it doesn't look like this is going to be one of those times._

Half a minute more of this, tops, and Michael'd have him in the sand. After that, it would only be a matter of time. With luck, getting choked half to death would take care of Scott's hard-on, allow him to get up with at least some shred of dignity still intact.

On the other hand - _fuck this_.

Michael's expression didn't noticeably change when Scott pressed in even closer. No jokes about Scott maybe having a stick of dynamite in his pants or something. Maybe British people didn't make those.

There was a moment of hesitation, though; a fraction of a second during which Michael was just a tiny bit off balance. Scott sensed it, even if he doubted any of the on-lookers would have. They didn't know Michael the way Scott did, of course.

Michael hit the sand with an 'oomph' that was at least fifty percent faked. Scott was still on top of him, though, which had been the point.

"Fighting a bit dirty, don't you think?" Michael tried to flip them over or at least get out from under Scott.

 _Under any other circumstances, that might hurt my feelings._ "A bit dirty and a little rough."

Michael chuckled, his body relaxing. _I'm seriously expected to fucking fall for that?_ "Not quite the show I believe we were intended to provide here."

Scott blinked, because that was -

 _\- a really fucking great distraction. And I fell for it._ "Fuck."

"Give?" Michael suggested, his expression insufferably smug.

Scott wanted to hit him. Or possibly just kiss him until that smugness'd been replaced by something that looked a whole lot better. "Fuck you. Seriously. _I'm_ fighting dirty?"

"You started it," Michael said. "I merely ended it. Fair's fair."

The audience was beginning to make some noise. Scott wasn't sure what they wanted, but he supposed that yeah, time to call it a wrap. Some discussions were better settled in private. _And naked._ "Fine. I give. You win. Congratulations."

Michael got up with a speed that was little short of insulting, reaching out a hand to help Scott up as well. Markunda came striding their way, a faint smile on her face.

"You decided to be smart, after all. Good."

_Smart? What did either of us do that was so fucking smart?_

Her smile widened, as if she'd read his mind. "The sand is good for rolling around in. For wrestling. It's less comfortable for other things, though. For that, you may use a tent."

_Wait just one fucking moment._

Michael glanced at Scott. Not smugly, which was good - more ... considering. Questioning.

Scott shrugged very lightly. _I'm cool with it if you are._ He was, too, more or less. Not like it'd be the first time or anything - just the first time it'd be with Michael.

"Well," Michael said. "I suppose it would only be fair to give Scott here a chance to redeem himself."


End file.
